


Second Star on the Right

by wanderingstoryteller



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fem Preg, POV Second Person, Pregnancy, Science baby, Time Babies (Doctor Who)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingstoryteller/pseuds/wanderingstoryteller
Summary: Missy takes on a companion after the Doctor's relationship with Yaz makes her jealous.





	Second Star on the Right

**Author's Note:**

> This fic commits several cardinal sins of fanfiction, including using the second person perspective and present tense verbs. It's a short one shot though so maybe I can get away with it. 
> 
> It also pairs Missy with an original female character and involves fem-preg so the shark was probably already jumped from the beginning premise. 
> 
> Enjoy

You waited your entire life for this moment, for the veil between worlds to grow thin, to fall down a rabbit hole, to step through the back of a wardrobe, for a little boy in green to come tapping on your window. The night you turned thirteen you waited for a letter to arrive by owl but it never did. You traveled to Scotland once, put your hand against a standing stone at dawn but no way opened. Another time you slept in the center of a fairy ring and woke to nothing but morning dew and stiff muscles.

What else could you do? You were raised on stories and all of the ones you loved promised you this, to be special, to be chosen, to walk between worlds and become a hero. Who else could you grow up to be when your mother named you Wendy? It’s not even a real name, not really. It didn’t exist before J.M Barrie made it up and gave it to  a little girl in a play. What place in the real world is there for a woman named after a fictional character?

When the moment comes, the moment you have waited for so long, you don’t hesitate. You are reading a book in the park when a red phone booth appears beside you. Beyond surprise and excitement, beyond fear and hope, what you feel is simple and honest relief. There are cracks in the world and at last you have found yours.

The woman who steps through the phone booth door could be the devil herself and you would still go with her gladly. Her smile does frightened you a bit, somehow too feral for such a human face. Were you to describe her the first words that come to mind are _evil Mary Poppins_. So much purple, such restraint and concealment, a corset to bind her breasts and straighten her back, long skirts and sleeves to hide her limbs. The way she holds that umbrella leaves no question that it is a weapon.

She holds one of your books, the first cheap paperback you ever published, in her white gloved hand. It was a bad sci-fi lesbian romance, all sex scenes and excessive descriptions of emotion conveying eyes. “This is yours?”

You scramble for words, “yes.”

“You’ll do then, come along Wendy.”

And you follow her into the phone booth. Rather than a tiny space filled with call girl adds and trash, it proves to actually be bigger on the inside.

It hurts the first time she fucks you. She’s not gentle and she has a tendency to bite. Still her fingers are talented and you want her so much you don’t care. She drags your orgasms out of you like she’s taking something from your soul.

She always seeks her own pleasure very quietly, asking only for your lips most of the time. Only when she finds her release does she cry out and then always the name of another.

“Doctor, Doctor, Doctor!”

That bothers you but you bury that feeling deep inside.

You would forgive her anything because she has given you the universe and you will stay at her side for as long as you can. She takes you back in time and together you steal one of the panels of the Ghent Altarpiece, just because she wants it. Next you go so far forward that humanity is barely recognizable, just so she can buy her favorite kind of Turkish Delight from a little shop on Station Alpha Zeta Twenty-Seven.

The first time you see her kill is frightening. You are not particularly beautiful or young but on Luna Five, women in general, at least ones who aren't cold eyed space marines, are rare. The soldier who gropes you, as you pushed past him on your way back to your table from the bar, was really just a boy.

You mean to handle it yourself, turning with a sharp word on your lips, but Missy is faster. One moment the young man is leering and then he is ash, a single zap from that strange umbrella. You drop the glasses you are holding, beer and gin splashing at your feet. You would probably just kept standing there, if Missy does not taken your arm and lead you away before the crowd can turn against you both.

You finally understand why she brought you onto her ship the first time you meet the Doctor. Missy tries very hard to pretend it is accidental when you run into the slight blond and her friends on New New New York while it is under siege by Cybermen.

Missy normally never touches you, not unless she’s pulling you from danger or fucking you, and yet she does constantly in front of the Doctor. She’s all passionate kisses, affection, and praise. It’s not hard to guess why. There is a sort of raw jealousy in the way she looks at the Doctor and the dark haired police woman, Yaz something. She never says it but it is obvious that she wants the Doctor to see that she’s found one too, a companion, a lover.

Except you are not to Missy what Yaz seems to be to the Doctor. You know love when you see it in all the glory of small smiles and laughter and attentive concern. You doubt that’s something Missy would even want, from you at least, maybe she does from the Doctor.

It doesn’t matter. When the Cybermen are defeated, the Doctor and her friends pop off in their blue box with a wave and you are alone with Missy again. You never truly fear her before that moment.

“Get out of my sight before I kill you by accident little pet,” she tells you and you do, hiding for nearly a day in the darkest part of her TARDIS. You know deep down that you have run away with the Red Queen, the White Witch, Captain Bloody Hook. You should beg her to let you go, you should run away the next time the TARDIS lands, no matter where it is. The things is though, you don’t want to. You waited for a lady knight in shining armor on a pale horse for so long and one never came, one never will. Maybe you never wanted the knight so much as you wanted the damn horse and the freedom it represented. You’ll travel with this mad woman for as long as she’ll have you.

She’s herself again the next day, all sharp toothed smiles and jauntily cocked plastic berry covered hat. When she fucks you that afternoon, she’s rougher then she’s ever been but goddess help you, you still want her so badly.

Things settle back to normal and you travel and run and in the midst of everything are brilliant moments of light. You dance with Missy on a frozen ocean beneath the moon, you hold a newborn winged kitten in the palm of your hand, once and only once Missy makes you a cup of tea.

The next time you see the chatty blond woman with the blue box everything changes. You are in London during a tribble outbreak. That’s rather unimportant though, what matters is that the dark haired police woman from Sheffield is heavily pregnant. At the sight of Missy, the Doctor send the pregnant human woman back to her TARDIS with the young black man and the greying older gentleman.

There’s a nearly screaming argument between the two Time Ladies in the middle of the street as the tribbles start to pile up around them. You catch snippets of Missy’s raised voice although the Doctor speaks so softly you can't make her out.

“How could you! With one of them! How could you after...”

In the end the tribble piles get so bad they have to stop arguing and deal with them. When the crisis is over, Missy doesn’t tell the Doctor goodbye, just grabs your wrist and drags you back to her own TARDIS.

“If that insufferable little girl scout wants to go play happy family with a human, well so the fuck can I!”

You get a bad feeling.

She takes you to her ship's little infirmary and does things to you, not all of them pleasant. The chip she puts in the back of your neck makes you dizzy at first and the skin itches until it heals. She tells you she’s enhanced your psychic centers but you don’t feel any different. She gives you a series of shots and you feel miserable for the next few days, all bloated and achy and moody. She must have done something similar to herself because she’s even more short tempered and illusive than usual.

A few days later she makes you lie down on the table and pokes you in a very intimate place with needles. You’ve no idea how she manages it on herself but somehow she does apparently. She spends a day in the lab doing something with a microscope. You half hope she might come to her senses and give up on the project but she doesn’t. She gives you more shots and three days later pokes things inside of you again in that sterile little infirmary room.

It takes the first time. The reality of the pregnancy takes a long time to sink in. Even when you start getting sick in the mornings, you are still well enough to run into danger with her, to see new things. For a little while it is as if nothing has changed.

You start to get heavy and slow. The day the baby first kicks is the day your stomach starts to glow. For the first time in your relationship Missy becomes attentive. You stop going dangerous places, she brings you food, she is gentle when she touches you. You are not foolish enough to think she care about anything but the baby inside of you but that’s alright. You're starting to care about the baby too.

That love awakens something inside of you, something fiercer and stronger than you thought possible. For the first time, in a long time, you reconsider if you should stay. Can the Wicked Witch of the West really be a mother? She’s never loved you, can she love a daughter? Can you stay with a woman who might not truly care about her child? Do you need to risk everything and run for the sake of the life inside of you.

One afternoon you fall asleep on the couch. You wake slowly to the sound of her singing very softly in a language you do not understand. She’s kneeling beside you, hand on your glowing stomach. On some deep instinctual level you know it is a lullaby.

When you cover her hand, she raises hauntingly blue eyes to your own. There is a strange tenderness in her face that belongs to a much younger person, someone she may have been a long time ago. Maybe she doesn’t love you but she is starting to love the baby and that is enough, enough reason to stay for a bit.

“She’s going to need a name,” she says at last. “I was thinking Omicron.”

“No,” it’s the first time you’ve ever told her no.  

She actually tilts her head slightly in surprise. “No?”

“Her name is Jane, after my grandmother”

She frowns, “It’s a human name.”

“So is she, at least partly, best she learn early on to be proud of that.”

“She’ll need pride.” That tenderness is back. “Jane it is then.”

And for that alone, you start to love her just a little bit. The future lies ahead of you vast and uncertain but you are not waiting for it anymore. The first gift you give your daughter is a name, solid and real, worn smooth by the lives of all the women who have carried it through the centuries. The stars are your child’s birthright, as they never were yours, so you give her a piece of home to guide her.

 


End file.
